The Incomplete Guide to Dwarf-Elf Relations
by AlphaKantSpell
Summary: The full title is: The Complete Guide to Dwarf/Elf Relations (or complete as possible because this little thing called the Blight takes up a lot of time) However, that didn't look nearly as classy. A series of snippets of Zevran and his Warden's life during, post, and pre-Blight. Expect sex, musing on dwarf/elf relations, and confusing grammar mistakes.
1. Intrigue

Dragon Age and characters do not belong to me. This is merely an interpretation.

If you are unfamiliar with the "Noble Dwarf" Origin story (Aeducan), I would highly recommend reading about it via a wiki. This series will touch upon that back story without full detail of why the events happened.

Thanks for reading!

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The Incomplete Guide to Dwarf-Elf Relations

Part 1 – Intrigue

Intrigue was what brought her to ask into his life. Since climbing to the surface world, Ninette Aeducan had seen her fair share of elves; pitiable creatures that shied away at a glance. Even the casteless of her people held more dignity and they were marked less than worthless before birth. What drew her to Zeran was his gall, the confidence he radiated was a sweet breath of fresh air from Alistair's lamb-like self-doubt. And the sureness the Antivan regarded himself with was much more charming than Morrigan's haughty air ever could be. No, this was a man who knew his skills and was competent enough not to bombard others with it. She hadn't felt such thirst for another warrior's company since her Proving months ago. It was like he summoned Orzammar with a flick of his blade - an alien Orzammar of soft flesh and hairless chins but home all the same.

Zevrans's features on the other hand took a great deal of time to get used to. Dwarves were made of boxy shapes, square, hard, and sturdy enough to last a through beating. During their first battle, Ninette couldn't concentrate on her own enemy for fear the elf would shatter under duress like a tiny crystal. She needn't worry - Zevran moved like liquid, weaving around their foes with fluidity dwarves couldn't dare attempt. He danced around his attackers and cackled like the bird his former guild was named for.

"_Ah ~ this really get's the blood pumping_!"

Such display made Ninette itch for a duel.

The Warden found herself drawn to his willowy frame after that day. And really, who was she to ignore the beckoning call of his quirking eyebrows and eccentric voice.

Facial hair (or rather his lack thereof) was another matter entirely. Ninette descended from a very hairy race, any warrior worth his salt baring a beard of interlocking braids and a chest of thick tangles. Zevran bore neither. She'd peeked at him when the boys slunk off for a bath, not a hair anywhere on his body but scalp and groin. Any dwarf woman's reaction to the sight would be revulsion, Zevran's baby smooth chin made her shudder in the worst way possible. Every time Ninette spoke to the Antivan or thought of his touch on her, the exile swayed with dirty shame; _like seeking relations with a child_.

That was where she was now, in that awkward stage of fancying someone she wasn't supposed to. No much of a change from the affections of Gorim, her servant while in Orzammar - but at least that man bore a fine beard. Zevran was a pretty creature and not quite as towering as the other giants of their group but no dwarf by any standards. The whole thing was . . . awkward.

"If you keep frowning like that my dear, your face will undoubtedly stick." Zevran smirked at her as the group marched. Ninette's helm lay unworn in her hands, a heavy but ignorable weight of yet another thing to carry on their journey. What she wouldn't give for a Bronto to help move camp sites.

Zevran sloped around her, not without offering a pompous grin to Alistair as the other Warden guarded the rear of the group. By Zevran's wink the Antivan enjoyed the rear he guarded now. Ninette shook her head at their rivalry. Men acting like boys.

"You wound me Zevran. Being made of stone makes dwarves more susceptible to turning into statuettes. Back in Orzammar we had clinics specifically for our people who's faces '_stuck like that_'," she hummed back. Zevran barked with laughter as he shook his head.

"If you keep telling jokes with suck a serious expression no one but I will know you are joking."

She made a show of pondering over her next words.

"I suppose you are right. I wouldn't want Alistair to be confused. Poor lad has enough trouble finding his socks."

Zevran cackled again, Ninette had the impression it was one of his many tricks to lull those around him into false security. Her younger brother Bhelen used his soft eyed "Little Brother" persona to the same effect. Since his betrayal Ninette was more apt to poke holes in those masks, something she'd come to realize Zevran wore most often. His confidence was not a bluff; that she was certain of. Neither was his loyalty – or rather his need for protection under Grey Warden care. The Antivan was an enigma, his persona buried so deep she doubted even he knew the man behind the mask. An assassin, a Crow, perhaps he was nothing more.

"A beautiful stone with a sense of humor? Now I have seen everything." At her grin he delighted. The world looked brighter for a moment. "There we are ~ life is good now, yes? Why sour a perfect day with storm clouds?"

He was right of course. If her time scrambling through the dark of the Deep Roads meant anything then it was not to lose heart. Same lessons were taught through warrior's training; don't give the enemy an inch. Shame it took a rogue to remind her of that. Ninette rolled her shoulder as best she could in plate armor and was rewarded with a satisfying pop. Zevran's lips quirked

"Just like that? No talk of the Blight or worrying about bandits or Crows?" She shrugged at his question and smiled. Zevran laughed like someone who didn't understand a joke. "You are a strange woman. Sturdy as a rock but flexible like a cat's back bending for a scratch."

"No only stubborn. I refuse to let the darkspawn win. We will end this Blight so why worry?"

Zevran nodded, understanding the sentiment. "We have something similar with the Crows; live and enjoy life while things are good. Time is precious so why squander it with meaningless fret?"

Although the two views stemmed from a difference in personality, Ninette's refusal to accept cataclysm and Zevran's belief in it around every inevitable corner, their end result was the same. They lived now, strong and confident.

"It is a shame, really. I was anticipating holding you close and chasing away fears. I am very good for that, I assure you; bendy so you needn't worry of hurting my back with those '_badger_ _paws'_ of yours. Ah, our loss."

"Badger paws?" She had no idea what a badger was. So many things about the surface were still confusing to her. He laughed again and shrugged his shoulders.

Shaking her head, she smiled as he smirked. They were begun from such different realities, her born noble and under the earth and he a whore's son native to a glamorous country, oceans away. But like their world views they were compatible in the end.

If he just had some stubble at least, everything would be much less . . . weird.

Zevran motioned to say more but froze as sure as if struck with a frost spell. Ninette followed his lead, making a hating gesture to the rest of the group. Shale grumbled, impatient for battle. Alistair whispered loud in his confusion and was hushed by Leliana. Ninette searched the circling brush but didn't notice anything amiss.

"What's wrong?"

"The birds, they've flown off but we are not alone," Zevran whispered back, his voice quick. He took a tentative step. Silence wrapped the group with tangible weight. Ninette dared not move but every instinct screamed for her to either take cover or fight. Just as she could stand no more and demand their enemies face battle Zevran reeled back shouting, "Down!"

Ninette repeated the command to the group as she dropped. An unmistakable "_zwip_" of an arrow sailed by at perfect height for her head. It struck lose gravel, hard enough to scatter pebbled stones. Without her helm it would have been a kill shot if Zevran hadn't told her to move. Ninette focused on anger of an unannounced attack rather than fear of what could have been – and let loose a _War Cry _to make darkspawn shiver. Bandits stood no chance against the might of a Warden.

"At arms!" she roared to the group and shoved her helm into place. Zevran was already leaping up the bank of earth to where an archer notched his second arrow. A quick slice and a strangled gasp let her know they were down one enemy.

She would have cursed at the height barrier but another archer made sloppy work of a second attack, an arrow bouncing off her breastplate nowhere near a weak point. Either the bandits were terrible shots or unused to dwarf sized targets. In any case Leliana made quick work of the archer with a barrage of her own arrows. A warrior charged the group, Ninette meeting him head on. She swung her shield and bashed the bandit's chest plate in. He spat blood at the impact but had enough remaining sense to slash at her. The blade hissed against the metal of her shield as Ninette deflected and swung again. Lifted by one of Leliana's hymns she finished off the foe and hunted for another.

Eight bandits were slain in total when Ninette gave the all clear. Wynne patched up what wounds the group suffered as the Warden searched corpses for items. Peace as it was returned to the grassy alcove, birds chirping again in proper order.

"A good exercise, no?" Zevran purred content as a cat in the sun. He reclined against a mossy tree, the perfect picture of elegance and power. Conscious of Ninette's attention he stretched at his post, neck looking long and legs strong. Three men personally slain by his blades and the man held himself like he'd done nothing more than warm up in the sun's generous rays.

"Sod it all," the exiled princess growled and marched across to Zevran who had the sense to look wary. Perhaps he worried Ninette blamed him for the bandits – or at least feared wrath of an angry dwarf spattered in blood. Whatever he suspected didn't matter.

Ninette tore off her helm, hooked her fingers around his shoulder-guard and _yanked_ the Antivan down in a rough kiss that was all heat and teeth. Zevran took a breath to change the kiss into a more pleasant caress of lips. In the next he rearranged their positions so his back wasn't crooked and she needn't stand on her toes to reach him. Ninette had never kissed anyone so tall. Their meeting of lips an uncomfortable affair like two puzzle pieces meant for opposite sides of the board jammed together by an impatient force. While no roses bloomed or traveling bard burst into song (neither would past it past Lelianan) the union made a delicious friction. A spark made of static and something else urged the pair on.

Zevran made a sound of appreciation and swooped low to press more comfortably into the Warden without sprawling on the ground. He allowed her tongue into his mouth; in retaliation his hands palmed the steel of her skirt and fought to find soft flesh. Ninette clamored to get a better grip, a hand carelessly searching his scalp. Her gauntleted fingers traced an ear, causing Zevran to suck in a sharp stab of air.

In an instant he had her pinned to the ground; both hands cupping what skin he could touch on her face as he kissed like the action would make money rain from the sky. His hips jerked and bucked as she tweaked the ear and he moaned – _Ancestors_ he _moaned_ hot into her lips.

"I suspect this is your first time exploring the -_haa_- wonders of elf physic so this is – _ahh – _warning. If you keep touching my ears your companions will see more skin than I think you are willing to share."

Ninette's hands flew from his ears in an instant, face glowing pink with shame. Zevran whimpered at the loss of contact and pressed wet kisses to what of her neck was exposed. Somewhere down the slop Alistair made a gagging noise and Wynne murmured, nonplused. Ninette tucked the ear information away for later and happily met Zevran's lips again.

"You are a very strange woman indeed," he announced between less sloppy kisses. Still above her and grinning like a fool, Zevran rolled to the side in a lounging position. Ninette remained on the forest floor in an honest to stone daze.

She'd slept with men Orzammar but not one of the same powerful abandon for pleasure. It was always slow caresses and worshiping touches. This, _this _kiss with Zevran was like a sensual version of the Proving. By the Ancestors, he trounced any other kiss and was beardless to boot. Ninette reached across their small distance to palm his jaw, trace a golden eyebrow and caress the otherwise hairless face. Zevran watched on, eyes curious but not unhappy.

"Do you fancy strange?" she asked, voice carrying an airy quality she hadn't heard since her first childhood crush. Zevran grinned and bent for another kiss, rich but brief.

"I fancy you; I suppose that's as good an answer as any."

An adequate one but Ninette accepted it none the less. They took another moment to enjoy the new understanding in their relationship before she heeded Wynne's chiding calls. She returned to the group but not without a slap to Zevran's leather clad rump.

"Oh-ho, this is how you play, my Warden?" Zevran mused with a playful scowl. Ninette grinned up at him with a 'who, me?' look. He laughed again and watched her walk off with a whistle of appreciation.

Ancestors guide her; she sought relations with a beardless man.


	2. The Snag

The Incomplete Guide to Dwarf-Elf Relations

Part 2 – The Snag

In all honesty his first thought was "_Holy Shit_". More accurately his first response to the foolish Grey Wardens who fell prey to his trap like flies baited to soiled meat was a rude laugh and call for attack. He had no reason to fear the dwarf and human duo, already contemplated what his next assassination might entail. Perhaps they would give him the end he sought.

Then one Warden launched into motion – the dwarf, a tiny pebble of a warrior clad in tin armor. She toppled a man twice her size in a single blow and bashed in the assassin's skull before he had the chance to curse; so Zevran did for him. _Loudly_. To his supreme horror, like a lamb realizing the intent of its shepherd's blade, the Warden charged him next.

By either pure dumb luck or Maker's mercy he woke in a slurry daze an eternity later with the Warden's entire scouting party peering over him. Zevran felt sympathy pains for whatever texts mages scrutinized, it no fun being studied.

And again, "_Holy Shit_". There she was, the terrifying Warden who clobbered his men like a quinari. Zevran almost wanted to face a dragon instead, but the Warden was much a much more pleasing sight. Dwarves had an odd sort of beauty about them, like a cactus blossom. It was pretty if one took the time to notice, but quite dangerous to try.

Ninette, she introduced herself as when she removed her helm. Grey Warden number two of Ferelden, though obvious leader of the merry band. Her features were carved from soft clay, curvy but thick at the cheeks and square nose. Pale gold ink painted her face in blocky jags like the pattern to a woven basket. The color matched her hard eyes, crystalline with flecks of brass and blue. Zevran was surprised to see her hair done up in intricate braid, crimson locks pampered by a life no warrior would know. It pointed a person of dignity and intellect (perhaps not much given her current status). He hoped that meant she wouldn't be opposed to a proposition.

Scared gutless but hanging on to his wits enough to form a plan, Zevran put on his best mask and answered every question she asked. He mentioned a mutual benefit, she gained a trained killer and he constant protection. Zevran was under no illusions that the Crows would not seek his life for failing his hit. Surely this ferocious Warden would prove a worthy safety net. If worst came to worst she could slow down an attack and _he_ could scramble away before any was the wiser. Perhaps not the best plan but Zevran was confident he could adapt when danger struck. He would use the Warden as she used him.

No hard feelings, life was tough and stepping stones were plenty.

A tiny snag corrupted his plan; his pathetic soul decided _now_ was the time to grow soft.

It was Ninette's fault – he blamed her needling ways. She pried and into his life; asked into his "adventures" and depended on his skill to pick locks or spot traps. Zevran saw no reason in warning the headstrong warrior about traps if she just charged past them anyway. He didn't care if there was a blood mage across the room when _he_ was the one who dealt with spikes and fire loosed from said traps.

And he was a fool all the same. Ninette just had to look his way, grinning under freckles of blood with a gratitude that humbled him each and every time. Frustrating as a a storm, this Warden.

He was amazed on a daily basis by the strange woman, a beastly warrior who felled dawkspawn like gnats then turned to him or anyone else near by in shear wonder as she looked to the sky. Zevran understood she came from a world within a cavern but the Warden would gape at a cloud's migration across the horizon like the Maker himself appeared before her. Alistair had to nudge her along at times, and though they walked she kept one eye to the sky at all times. His fingers itched to draw a blade, strike now while her back was to him and her defenses down. Ninette fought like an ox for her pint size – his only chance at felling her was at those moments.

Zevran would move toward his prey then she would circle a glance back at him and gesture for him to join her. It was impossible, but somehow this mole-ish creature had clipped the Crow's wings.

"Look how fast those ones are moving!" Ninette exclaimed, almost bouncing in step as she pointed to a mass of gray clouds just before the horizon. Zevran squinted in the direction, Ninette oddly eager for his reaction. So new to the aboveground world around her, the Warden soaked up any information she could find. He humored her.

"Running like a cheating man from his wife, yes. Must be quite windy up there." Ninette grinned up at him in a way that made Zevran feel far too smart for his own good. She would be the end of him, if not already. "Those thunderheads look quite ferocious. We may have rain this afternoon."

"Thunderheads?" Ninette quoted like a magpie. She was never this relaxed around the others. By Wynne she was hard of character, by Sten an immovable warrior, and to Alistair a stern if helpful sibling. Harried travelers seeking aid found a hero and those who refused to give information she wanted turned to whimpering terror with but a look.

Only with Zevran was she honest in reactions. Sometimes he'd watch her from across the campfire and wonder why – why him? It wasn't out of self deprecation – it made no sense. He'd been hired to kill her and exaggerated the truth on a regular basis.

It was all he could do to chuckle for her now.

"Yes, the big grey ones about to eat those cheating husband clouds. _Those_ are thunderheads, big storm clouds that breathe lightning."

The Warden scrunched up her face in thought then returned with, "Like Morrigan's spells?"

"Like that, yes, but bigger and far more powerful. It growls like a pack of giant mabari and lights the sky in a brilliant flash!"

"_That's_ lightening?" Ninette demanded, cheeks gone pale. Zevran floundered to find an explanation to her sudden fear. Ninette faced ogres in single combat but thunder clouds frightened her?

"Until I came above ground, I didn't know what rain was," she started to explain, voice hushed like she worried the clouds might hear. Zevran quieted himself, following at the slower pace Ninette set. It was a rare occasion when the Warden spoke of herself.

"At home, when water drips from above it means there will be a collapsed tunnel, soon. During the battle at Ostagar, it rained so heavy I thought the sky would fall on me. Alistair had to explain over and over what rain was so I would focus on the battle and not it." She laughed now, but it was a pitiable sound. "Each time he did, he explained it a little differently so I ended up more confused and gave up being frightened to fight the Darkspawn."

"It is difficult to imagine you frightened, _mi señora_," Her current temperament notwithstanding. Ninette laughed hard at that and a knot loosened in Zevran's gut. He'd caused that reaction from her, not the sky and certainly not Alistair. It gave him enough of a shot of pride, he forgot for a moment that he was sent to Ferelden to kill her.

"You are a hopeless flirt, rogue."

"Perhaps not so much hopeless as handsome."

"I'll give you that," Ninitte giggled and Zevran took a moment to catalogue the sound. Strange to hear such a fearsome woman make the noise. He grinned at her and the warrior managed to compose herself.

"As the battle progressed I focused less and less on the rain and more on the Darkspawn that were butchering our army. Then the sky lit up; boomed like an explosion had gone off and great cracks tore the sky. It was like every legend I have heard of, the sky opening to swallow an untethered dwarf whole."

Her shoulders jerked with an uncontrollable shake like a spider had bitten the back of her neck. Zevran listened close now, captivated by the stories of a society that existed entirely underground.

"When we go Above, we lose the blessing of our ancestors," she explained to him. "We become. . . Castless, cut off from our heritage and the protection that comes with it. Venturing Above is a worse fate than those who wander the streets without a cast but are still connected to the Earth. If I hadn't already lost everything before finding the Wardens, I might not have gone with them. At the time, I suppose I was too exhausted and frightened by everything else to worry about the sky."

Zevran was curious about that story but decided it would be better for later. In general, the Warden did not offer pieces of her own information. She'd sit with the other members of their group and tirelessly listen to their old wounds or current complaints but she herself was not the soap-box type. No, Ninette preferred to bash in skulls with her shield opposed to conversing. Another thrill went through Zevran when he realized not even Alistair had gotten so much private information from the Warden.

"You seem to like the sky now," he prompted when she grew quiet again.

"It changes a lot," Ninette said. "Everything in this world changes. Alistair told me about the . . .seasons? When leaves fall and water freezes as it rains." She said it like she didn't believe it. "Back home, more than a thousand years can go by before a section of a wall is changed by dripping water. I realize now, our way of life is similar. It takes years, maybe decades to agree to a political statement. Even a simple party may take half the year to prepare for. Life Above leaves me a bit winded."

"Oh, we still have places that change very little," Zevran encouraged. "At my home, Antiva, we have only two seasons – wet and dry. Our springs are warm, our summers hot, the fall and winter like a cold morning in this land, Ferelden."

Zevran grinned when he thought of his homeland, of sinking his feet into the fine sand of a riverbed or the rolling hills painted in wheat. Antiva was so much more beautiful than Ferelden and Zevran wanted to show Ninette that not everything 'Above' as she said, was so bleak.

"I must admit, I had trouble my first time in Ferelden." Ninette looked doubtful. "It is true! In Antiva, time is not so important. The weather is even and kind most all year so we have little need to be as stingy with our time as these Fereldens are."

"They are, aren't they," Ninette chortled. It was a nice deep sound that Zevran doubted female elves were capable of making. It was foreign but not unwelcome. Unique. Very Dwarfish. "I was ten minutes late to a lesson Wynne was giving me on Ferelden history and she was mad as a Hissing Bat!"

Zevran had never heard of a hissing bat before but he could imagine it well. He laughed along with the warrior. "When this war is over, you must come with me to Antiva and see what civilized society is."

Ninette watched him and Zevran paused. He had never been the planning type; had no use for it when his life was a tool to be used. If he had any goals, sharing them with another was certainly not something he did. He enjoyed company but forming long lasting bonds was not something in his vocabulary, let alone personality. It was not often that Zevran felt foolish but the Warden had a knack coaxing it out of him. From the first moment he met her while charging an ambush to this moment, talking about clouds and time. To his great surprise, Ninette's smile was soft and warm, fresh milk ready to be added to a dessert. All at once, Zevran didn't care that he had a death sentence on his head, or that the world was ending, and that he'd betrayed the last woman who cared for him. Seeing her smile, all Zevran wanted was to learn how to repeat the act.

"I would like that," she said. "After the war, our first stop is Antiva."

After that, Zevran walked with more purpose. He was eager to finish the war as quick as they could and not necessarily to save lives. The only one he was interested in now was that of a woman who he was originally sent to kill.


End file.
